Run, Little Rabbit, Run
by daughterofthering
Summary: Carter has been experimented on ever since she was a child by a covert government facility. When she finally escaped, she runs into Sherlock and his companion, John, in the most disturbing of fashions. Sherlock begins to take much interest in this woman. The more she tells them of her past, the more secrets they discover, putting herself and Sherlock in danger. Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1-Panic

**Hello fellow earthlings, welcome to the first chapter of ****Run, Little Rabbit, Run****. ****LizardKind**** and ****Blood Hounds and Werewolves**** are still going so don't worry! Enjoy the first chapter!**

Chapter 1

Carter sprinted as fast as her legs would allow, which was surprisingly fast. Technically, she could match the speed of the fastest Olympic sprinter if she wished or even faster, but at the moment in time she had to be wary of falling to her demise while running along the rooftops of London. Yes, you heard correctly: rooftops. It was quite possibly the easiest way to lose them. They had experience, yes, but they didn't have half the skill Carter had. Luck was against them if they wanted to catch her. All those chemicals they pumped into her blood stream made sure of that. They had failed to keep her contained in that jail for the specimens, and she was never going to see the inside of that place ever again. She made a promise to herself and she was not about to break it.

Before she escaped, she was careful with what clothes she wore. It was a simple, dark grey hoodie, loose fitting denim jeans and a pair of black Nike trainers. She had to hide her face, from all authorities; even the police, so she wore a dark red scarf over her lower face. Still, it was obvious she would attract attention by running along people's houses, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. If they knew _exactly _who she was, they would be scared. Very scared. And rightly so; she was dangerous. Radioactive and hostile. That's what they told the British Government. Told them that if not contained and restrained, she would cause devastating collateral damage. Lies. All of it. It was merely a mask to cover up what they were truly doing.

Carter leapt over a gap. No human could have made that. She wasn't exactly what you could call human. She _used _to be, but not anymore. Obviously. However, some things are very much impossible, even for her. For instance, when one rooftop is particularly far away from the one she was currently running along, any rational person would stop and find another way across. Not Carter. She just jumped. Without hesitation or fear. It was just about the most stupid thing she had done in her entire life. She might have made it, if not for her exhaustion and malnutrition, but even then it must have been a big risk to take. Not that she was bothered.

Her hands grabbed fruitlessly at the roof tiles as her legs tried to push herself up onto safe ground. The tiles suddenly slipped from the roof and she let out a sharp cry of panic as she fell backwards. After a moment of a strange weightlessness, her back hit something with a sharp jolt and she lost her breath in the hot pain. She continued to fall though, and her body twisted uncontrollably in mid-air. With a sickening and severely painful crunch, her torso hit the ground, then her legs. She laid motionless for a few seconds, the shock causing her body to go rigid. She was still oblivious to a pair of onlookers. They never expected to see a 19 year old girl fall from the sky. It was highly illogical.

"Did you see that?" One man mumbled.

"Of course Watson. However illogical it was, I did just see someone fall from the rooftops." The other said, his voice deep and smooth.

Carter was snapped back into reality at the sound of their footsteps becoming closer to where she lay and instantly pushed herself up. They stopped moving towards her and watched her cautiously as she got into a defensive stance. The person was tall and well built, but his figure was slender. Sherlock deduced that this person was female, not male, due to her hands and how her chest jutted out more than any mans would. He could only just see her stormy grey eyes under her hood. She was scared.

"Calm down, miss." He said, not sounding as comforting as he would have liked.

John took a step closer, as all her attention was on his companion. She didn't feel any resentment or fear towards this man. She looked him over, hoping for something to explain why. He wore a dark grey trench coat and denim jeans, as well as a warm looking scarf around his neck. Out of everything, it was his eyes that calmed her down. They were icy blue and perceptive. She couldn't find any emotion in his eyes other than curiosity. She heard a small scuffling sound come from his companion, the older one. He was much closer than the last time she looked. Acting on her inhuman instinct, she hissed and pulled out a knife from her pocket. The older man backed away, hands raised in surrender.

"Now, now, no need for any violence." He said, eyes flitting from the knife to her face.

"Stay away from me!" She exclaimed, her strong British accent coming through.

The taller man with dark brown hair made the move to grab the knife and she dodged him skilfully. She hissed at him and ran at the wall. She pushed herself up and grabbed onto windowsills, fire escapes, anything that could help her back onto the rooftops as they watched down below. Obviously, they followed her. A girl, running along the rooftops with a knife in her possession is certainly a thrilling experience. So, they ran up the fire escape that led to the top floor and clambered up onto the roof. They managed to get up quickly enough to see her receding back.

"Hurry up Watson, we're losing her!" The tall man shouted as be ran after her. The so called 'Watson' rolled his eyes and followed.

Carter felt unwanted fear pumped in her heart and it was banging in her ears like drums. They wouldn't catch her. They couldn't. They weren't like her; no matter who they were. What she didn't expect was to meet a dead end. She stared down at the ground with disbelieving eyes. She didn't like this situation. Why did she have to be so _stupid_? Was it that difficult to think before she acted?

"Nowhere to go now, dead end." She turned slowly to face the taller, younger man. He was breathing quite heavily, whereas she had barely broken a sweat. He noticed this and raised an eyebrow. She certainly was an interesting character, and he certainly didn't think that of many people. Most were boring and dull. She watched him, not uttering a single word. It felt like some form of stand-off and she was on the losing side.

"Just come with us, you will be safe." He tried to reason with her, but she saw right through the cover. He was going to send her straight to the police station. Not this time. His older companion ran up from behind him and stood by his side, sweating and exhausted.

"We won't hurt you!" Watson exclaimed, exasperated.

"You're just going to hand me over!" The men guessed she thought they were going to give her to the police.

"No, we won't." Watson tried to reassure her.

"You're lying!" She shouted, an edge to her voice, "What if I just jumped?"

"No! You have to trust us, we won't do anything to hurt you." The younger man stayed silent, watching her with calculating eyes.

"I won't let you take me back to that place!" She shrieked, startling them both.

"What place? Where do you come from?" The younger man asked. Watson interrupted him, not wanting his companions to cause her to panic any more than she already was.

"We promise we won't take you anywhere, or hand you over to anyone. We just want to help you." Watson said. She was scared and in need of the help he had just offered. She still looked reluctant. In fact, she took a step back and closer to the edge.

"No one can help me." She said calmly and put away her weapon. Her back straightened and she put her arms out like wings. The younger man's eyes widened in realisation and he reached out to her, quickly lunging out in an attempt to grab hold of her.

"No!" He yelled, but it was too late. She let gravity win and her body fell backwards off the edge; falling four stories before slamming into the hard ground. Sherlock saw a pool of blood expanding from under her body as chaos ensued from bystanders. He gulped. She had just committed suicide. He was kneeling down at the edge of the roof, his elbow resting on his knee while he looked down at her body. Her limbs were sprawled across the tarmac, hair spread out like fire, but matted with blood. Her hood had been removed in the fall. Her face was so serene in death, so calm. Her stormy grey eyes were wide open, portraying every emotion she has ever felt pouring out with her blood.

His thoughtful reverie was broken by Watsons hand on his shoulder and the blaring sirens from both police cars and the ambulance. Something wasn't right here. This girl new something and he, Sherlock Holmes, was going to figure out what it was.

**~~~~~A/N~~~~~**

**Okay, very short first chapter but don't worry, it isn't going to be a short story and Carter isn't gone for good. Please review, or whatever you you prefer to do, but all flames will be reported. Have a nice day!**


	2. Chapter 2-Miracle

**Hullo, I am very happy to say a couple of people favourite this story and followed it! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 2

Sherlock stared down at the body. It was the girl who had jumped from the rooftop. Her skin was pure white with death, but he had closed her eyes out of respect. Her face was very angular and sharp; high cheek bones, beautiful and refined features. He had ordered her body to be moved to the morgue. He had to examine her body if he was to figure out why she committed suicide so easily. Just looking at her naked body, he could tell she was abused in some fashion. Ugly, white scars littered her flesh. Some were long and deep, while others were short and faint. His brow furrowed upon closer inspection; the scars were too precise and tidy to be by any average person, but by someone with medical experience by the looks of it… a doctor perhaps?

"What on earth are you doing?" Watson inquired suddenly. Sherlock looked up sharply and gave him a pointed look.

"Figuring it out." He stated simply.

"Figuring what out? It was a suicide, not a murder."

"I know that, but something isn't quite right about it." Watson gave him a look that clearly said 'do tell' with raised eyebrows. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Remember how she panicked when she saw us? Why would she do that if she didn't even know who we were? She was panicking and everything became a threat. The violence she showed was fuelled by said panic. She couldn't have possibly been so scared of a pair of men she didn't know, that she committed suicide right in front of them." To be honest none of that made sense in Watsons mind.

"So… you brought her body to the morgue. Why?"

"_Because _her body might be able to tell us what she can't." Sherlock motioned for the doctor to put on a pair of latex gloves. The consulting detective gestured to a particularly long scar from her hip to just under her breasts. "This is a very old scar, along with the others on her body I can tell she has been abused. Now tell me, Doctor, do they look like they were done by the average person?" Watson studied the scars and sighed.

"They look to me like surgical scars after an operation." He said.

"Yes, but she is young, only around 19, so it is highly unlikely she would have so many operations in her lifespan. It just doesn't happen."

"How can you be sure she was abused though?"

"Look _closely _Watson, it isn't that difficult!" Sherlock exclaimed. Her gently grabbed her wrist and over turned it. Her wrists were red raw and bruised heavily. They also had numerous cuts along them, new ones.

"Looks like the work of tight handcuffs. These cuts also look like they were self-harm…" Watson trailed off.

"_And?_" Sherlock egged him on. Watson frowned and continued to look at her wrists.

"Oh my God…" He murmured. There was thousands of tiny, barely noticeable puncture marks along her wrists, shoulders and even her stomach. They were the work of numerous injections.

"Finally, you caught up." Sherlock said.

"It still doesn't make any sense… Was she some kind of drug addict?"

"Might well be, still haven't had the results of the test back. If I could only have seen her face when she was alive I would have been able to tell."

"Mind if I take a look?" Watson asked. Sherlock smirked, he had been waiting for him to ask that. Sherlock gestured for him to proceed.

Watson checked everything he could- her pupils, her DNA and anything of that sort.

"She most certainly wasn't under the influence from what I can tell." He said, sighing.

"I need to think." Sherlock groaned, pushing the drawer into the metal face of the morgue.

"Aren't you going to put her in a body bag?" Watson asked.

"When Molly graces us with her presence with it in her possession." He answered, slight sarcasm slipping into his voice.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**The girl felt cold. She opened her blurry eyes and blinked. The air was almost stagnant with a tense atmosphere. A strange smell reached her nose and she began to gain her senses back. She couldn't move. She was in such a small, confined area; it felt like she was in a coffin. She tried to keep her breathing steady while she lifted her hands to touch cold, hard metal. It was all around her and there was no way out. Then she began to panic. Her breathing picked up and soon she was hyperventilating. The walls were closing in on her; she needed to get out.**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Sherlock and Watson were just about to leave the room, when they heard breathing. It was fast and erratic. They gave each other a look of confusion. Re-entering the room, they tried to find the source. There was no one else in the room other than them right? They didn't see or hear anyone else come in. Could it be one of the… bodies? No, that was an absurd idea. They were just dead bodies. _Dead _as in not breathing. It wasn't until they both heard a big, loud bang from one of the drawers that they began to rethink that theory.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**The girl hit and kicked within the metal coffin, trying to escape without much success. She thrashed violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her throat constricted and she screamed. She shrieked hysterically, calling for help.**

"**Get me out! Please! Let me out!" She cried, hoping desperately that someone would hear her.**

**The metal coffin was suffocating her. Everything she did made it only become worse and worse with every breath she took.**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Sherlock and Watson heard the screaming, it was a woman. They instantly pulled open one of the drawers and the screaming became louder. They jumped back in shock as the body rolled onto the floor and hit the tiles with a slap. The person looked up with stormy grey eyes and scurried into the corner of the room, completely naked with nothing covering her body and huddled her legs to her bare chest. Her auburn hair fell like curtains over her knees and back. Her shoulders shook as she cried quietly. Watson glanced at Sherlock and if Sherlock's stoic expression was anything to go by, he was thinking very hard. Watson was actually the first to react by kneeling down by the girl, not so close as to startle her.

"Are you okay, Miss?" He asked tentatively. She ignored him and continued to hug her legs closer to her body.

"Miss?" He braved an attempt to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it didn't go as planned. She shrieked and pushed him away from her and into Sherlock. They both stumbled backwards while she pushed past them. Sherlock pulled Watson to his feet quickly and they turned to look at the woman. She was holding a surgery knife-a large scalpel-and had it pointed at them. Watson raised his hands and watched her cautiously. Her eyes were wild and her muscles rigid. She was still very much naked, but her long, waist length hair fell over her shoulders and covered her breasts from view.

"Miss, put that down." Watson said.

"I don't know what use a scalpel would be against two grown men." Sherlock stated angrily. The woman froze. It was the same man she met on the rooftops…. When she jumped… She was meant to be dead. Why didn't she die? How did she get in a hospital? Did they bring her there? No, it wasn't a hospital… it was a morgue. So she did die. But… how could… she was still… alive?

"Lestrade, no!" Watson's loud shout broke her from her little reverie and she spun around quickly, only to be met with the end of a gun. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, before her vision faded out and she blacked out.

Sherlock and Watson watched as her eyes roll into the back of her head and she collapsed into a heap on the floor. Watson looked at Sherlock, whose eyes held a strange anger and frustration. He had never seen Sherlock look like that over something like this. Well, Lestrade did just shoot a girl with a tranquiliser dart.

"Why did you do that?" He asked calmly.

"She wasn't going to calm down Holmes, use your imagination."

"It was completely unorthodox."

"When did you ever care for unorthodox?"

"He has a point." Both men looked at Watson. He just shrugged and went to check the girl's vital signs. They were fine.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Watson felt a pang of guilt as a group of medic hauled her onto the back of an ambulance. It was getting dark and the two detectives were still arguing behind him; neither of them noticed the ambulance drive off towards the hospital.

"Sherlock, we are going to the hospital." He stated and moved to hail a cab, but his dark haired companion beat him to it, climbing into the first cab that came his way. In the cab, they sat in silence. Sherlock could tell Watson wanted to say something, but every time he went to say it, he stopped himself.

"If you want to say something John, do say it." He said, breaking the silence.

"How could she be alive?" He said, "I pronounced her dead myself."

To his surprise, Sherlock stayed silent.

**~~~~~A/N~~~~~**

**Second chapter completed, enjoy and remember to review, follow or favourite this story. I need the support, thank you!**


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